


Sometimes Bad Guys Make The Best Good Guys

by Fade_and_loathing_in_thedas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fanart, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hightown Funk Exchange, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Not Actually Unrequited Love, Photoshop, Playlist, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fade_and_loathing_in_thedas/pseuds/Fade_and_loathing_in_thedas
Summary: Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys. Hawke and the gang grift and rob the rich and corrupt noblity to give back the abused, forgotten and ignored citizens of Kirkwall. A Leverage and Hustle inspired fic.There is also a dwarf who realises he is in love with his best friend. Unrequited, but actually not unrequited love. Anders and Fenris bickering and a smartass pirate."You see, the first rule of the con is you can’t cheat an honest man. It’s never been done. Can’t happen. Impossible. The only way a con works is if the mark want something for nothing. So what do we do? With give them nothing for something"
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4
Collections: Hightown Funk 2020





	1. It's good to be home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baker_and_fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baker_and_fangirl/gifts).



> Dear baker_and_fangirl!
> 
> I also absolutely love Leverage so I lived for your prompt. Like I just loved the idea of hacktivist and fixer Anders, master thief and roper Isabela, grifter and inside man Hawke, mastermind and outside man Varric and hitter and retrieval specialist Fenris. My brain could barely contain the ideas I had.
> 
> I'll admit I struggled to write a heist no matter how much I tried so I worked it in as best I could with references to both the show and Hustle, the British series that inspired Leverage, in the fic. I also created a photoshop crossover fic image based on the Leverage covers (I couldn't resist) and a playlist of the fic feels, which I hope you also like :) 
> 
> I just need to say that I have so many headcannons and ideas from your prompt and really wish I could have wrote more. I'm stuck on an idea of a prequel based on the Nigerian Job and follow ups based on the Girls Night Out and Boys Night Out. For Girls Night Out, I can't help but see Merrill as the Peggy to Isabela's Parker. I can also so see Aveline as like a cross between Tara/Officer Barnado, full of friendly judgement of Hawke for how she grifts ("you could just do x but if you want to be extra"). And for Boys Night Out, Donnic encouraged by Aveline to join the boys game of Wicked Grace, and just being so confused by, as well as caught in, the chaos that is the gang's antics. 
> 
> This was so fun for me so I hope you also enjoy it.
> 
> Spotify Link: [Sometimes Bad Guys Make The Best Good Guys](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/631l0FjgDr5fRMa53WHFH1?si=BSsW-BH7TnSNAziffbt_YQ)

Varric whistled a tune as he surveyed the streets of Low Town, the old familiar stench of unwashed flesh, rotten fish and desperation flooding his nostrils. _Damn, it's good to be home._ With a jaunty step, Varric headed toward the Hanged Man.

Even before he reached the doorway, the patron's booming laughter could be heard, along with the familiar sound of the clink of coins striking coins as they exchanged hands. Varric smiled and reached for the door handle, then let himself in.

Varric quickly scanned the crowd inside, a grin splitting his face when he caught sight of Hawke with a couple of marks at the bar. Her back was to him, but he’d recognise that untameable shag of black hair anywhere.

Even from his view, at the door, he could tell she had them exactly where she wanted them. Hawke knew all the ways of building up a mark's confidence. She knew how to feed them a little of the sweetest bait, whether it was sex or money or power, whatever it was that they adored the most, but what she was really feeding them was the delicious poison of their own egos. She only had to let them have a taste of it, and they would come back begging for more. That was the trick, you see. You can’t cheat an honest man. The only way a con works is if they want something for nothing. And Hawke, well Hawke was a master at giving them nothing for something.

"Hawke!" He called and her head snapped up, her gaze immediately searching the crowd. She was vibrating with excitement. Varric’s grin got even bigger when Hawke finally caught sight of him, and something Varric had been missing for the last twelve months suddenly clicked back into place, settling the antsy restlessness he hadn’t even known he’d been filled with until it was suddenly gone.

“Varric!” she exclaimed with a grin. Abandoning both her card game and marks without a backward glance she pushed her way through the crowd. Varric almost toppled over when she hurled herself into his arms. "It's good to see you too chuckles." Varric said with a laugh.

They held each other tight. Then with misty eyes she stepped out of his arms and ran her palm across his face with something akin to reverence. He instinctively leant into it. “Andraste’s tits!" He flinched, as the palm that had been previously caressing his face slapped him. Hard. "What was that for Hawke?”

“One letter, in twelve months Varric” Hawke said, her voice hard with hurt and disapproval. Her quiet disappointment in him rankled far more than if she had shouted. There were few people in the world whose opinions mattered to him, but Hawke was one.

“Yeah, ah, sorry,” he sighed, looking away from her as guilt twisted in his chest. "I, uh, wasn't really in the writing mood."

Hawke's face went through a series of undecidable expressions, but then, just when he thought she was going to ask something, he knew he wasn't ready to answer, she grinned. That shit eating carefree grin that was designed to put those around her at ease. Slapping Varric on the back, she said, "Come on then. Let me buy you a welcome home drink" Hawke slung an arm around Varric's shoulders loosely. The gesture was so perfectly friendly and casual that it had no business making Varric so damn aware of her.

Varric allowed himself to be pulled towards the bar, hating the fact she felt the need to wear that smile with him but grateful none-the-less. He wasn't ready to talk about Bianca.

"What are your plans, now you're a free man again?" Hawke asked, as she inelegantly reached, more like half climbed, over the bar to pour them each a drink. The bartender side eyed them but seemed unconcerned. Everyone loved Hawke.

“I’ve got the crew back together.”

“I hope you mean for dinner and drinks.” Hawke said, not without sarcasm. Her brow furrowed in disapproval.

He chuckled, "That too."

"Seriously Varric!" Hawke blinked a few times, looking adorably bewildered. "Both the City Guard and the Templars will be watching you. Not to mention, what if the Guild sent someone to monitor you? They're just waiting for excuse to have you eliminated." Her underlying message of _what-the-absolute-fuck-you-idiot_ coming through loud and clear.

"Rivaini has already found us a mark.” Varric raised his eyebrows; smirking up at Hawke in a silent dare. "A real piece of work."

Hawke shook her head, mumbling something under her breath that sounded a lot like _Maker, save me from ridiculously charming and persuasive dwarves_ that only made Varric’s lips twitch with laughter.

“Fine,” Hawke said, sounding exasperated. Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile, which looked too cute but also reassured Varric that she wasn't completely against the plan. In fact, he was pretty sure she was as excited to get back to what they did best as he was.

Taking a swig from her tankard she asked "So when does everyone arrive in town?"

"They're already here."

"Where?" Hawke's eyes narrowed.

Raising the tankard to his lips, he said "Now, where would three of Thedas's most wanted criminals be hiding out in Kirkwall?"

“Oh, by the Maker,” Hawke muttered, her eyes darting around furtively before snapping back to Varric. “You don't mean…" There was a slight undercurrent of panic in Hawke’s voice that made Varric chuckle. "It was either that or Dark Town."

Hawke sculled her tankard, before slamming it on the table. "Let's go." Standing, she pulled Varric to his feet, and began hustling him towards the exit.

"What's the rush?" Varric laughed, as his friend manhandled him out of the tavern.

Undeterred Hawke had a hand on his back, propelling him forward. Varric snorted as he heard her mutter "My mother is going to lose her mind if she finds another one of Isabela's carvings."

_Damn, it was good to be back with Hawke again_.


	2. The Con Is On

The first thing Hawke heard as she walked into her house was the clipped tones of two familiar voices in a petty argument.

"You know that was mine." Anders snapped.

"I thought you got it for me." Fenris answered.

With a sense of growing horror she abandoned Varric, and sprinted towards the voices.

She tumbled into the room to see Anders pacing, running a hand through his messy blonde locks while Fenris sat, his hip perched on the edge of her mahogany desk. His facade of nonchalance was belied by the vein pulsing at his temple and the glow of his lyrium markings. It took only a second to see the elf was one comment away from punching the mage.

Undaunted, the mage moved directly up into the elf's personal space "Did you? Did you really?" he asked, the sarcasm dripping off each word.

"Yes." Fenris said with a smirk, then with a lift of an eyebrow he asked, "What? can't I enjoy a nice mead once in a while"

"No." Anders glared and pointed at the elf "Don't think I can't see what your doing"

"What are you doing?" Isabela asked, as she all but threw herself down onto the unoccupied small, brown sofa.

"It's not your concern" Fenris snarled. Isabela snorted under her breath, rolled her eyes, then swung her legs over the arm of the chair and folded her arms behind her head.

Before Hawke could interrupt the brewing battle Varric's voice cut through the chaos. "Are you two still squabbling?" He stood leaning against the door entrance, arms folded across his chest. His lips turned up in a roguish grin. The explosion of butterflies in her stomach chased away her panic in an instant. "I guess some things never change." He said with a chuckle.

The shift in the room was immediate. Whatever tension that existed eased and a round of back claps and joking insults were thrown around as they each welcomed Varric home.

While the boys caught up Hawke turned to Isabela and asked “Just how did you get in? I had three locks,” Isabela smirked, and raised three fingers. “Three useless ones.” Hawke shook her head “Well, I'll take comfort in the fact that not everyone is as skilled a lock-pick as you.”

Isabela laughed, wrapping an arm around Hawke’s neck and pulling her in for a hug. Then she leaned in, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, and I left you a present somewhere in the house. I actually impressed myself, this one is especially… _inventive._ "

"Makers breath, Isabela!" Hawke exclaimed, "My mother better not see this one." The pirate just threw her head back and cackled, as she walked away from her irritated friend.

"Now that we've gotten the greetings out of the way, and I feel suitably missed. Tell us about the mark Rivaini" Varric looked to the rogue, who was once again lounging on the sofa.

"Hubert Bartiere, an Orlesian merchant. He runs a network of small factories making counterfeit Orlesian fashion."

"Otherwise known as sweat shops." Fenris growled. "I've seen those places, and you wouldn't keep an animal in them"

Hawke's lip curled up in revulsion at Fenris's words, as a potent blend of anger and disgust twisted in her stomach. Looking at her friends she saw they shared similar looks.

"Yes… erm, well-" Isabela let out a forced cough and continued "He was lured to Kirkwall after the blight. The large influx of refugees made it the perfect climate for him to... set up his business"

"So where's the in?" Hawke asked. If they were to con the bastard she needed to know the weak spot. They all had one.

With a grin Isabela looked up at Hawke and said "He's greedy. More sovereigns than he could use in a lifetime, but would cross the street to pick up a copper piece" They shared a smile. The perfect mark.

Hawke turned to Varric "So, the 'Denerim Wake-Up Call'?"

Varric hummed, then said "No. We're going with a different scam. One of the classics."

Perking up, Isabela asked "The 'Val Royeaux Spank'?" Varric shook his head in a silent no. "The 'Arlesans Paso Doblé'?" Anders said with a grin. Another shake. "The 'Apple Pie'?" Fenris suggested. When they all stared at him in confusion he added "It's like The 'Cherry Pie', but with Templars." Isabela and Hawke shared another look and grinned.

Varric laughed "Nothing so dramatic." His baritone wound about Hawke's senses, wreaking havoc. "The Fiddle Game will be perfect for this one. Just feed the greed" A crooked half-grin tipped the corners of his lips, so cockily confident, and so wholly Varric that Hawke froze, ensnared and unable to look away.

She forced a smile, firmly pushing aside the feelings that were never going to go anywhere. Varric was her best friend, and it was enough. With an artificial bounce in her step she strode over to Varric and clapped him on the shoulder "We've got a plan. Let go rob the bastard" The whole team grinned.

Varric quickly dolled out the roles for the plan. Isabela would rope the mark, using her connection as a former smuggler. Hawke would be their inside man, there to take him for everything he had. Varric their outside man, to be the oh so trustworthy independent outsider. Anders would take the role of the fixer, there to find and set up locations and secure people, items and anything else necessary that are needed to help convince the mark that the con is anything but. Fenris would be the floater, better to have offside should the con go sideways and muscle is needed. Plus he could help Anders gather the materials they needed.

The con was on.


	3. A Well Placed Arrow

Varric was feeling inordinately pleased when he arrived back at his suite at the Hanged Man. The con had gone perfectly. The mark was practically destitute and crawling back home to Orlais, and the workers had each received a very comfortable severance package from an unknown benefactor. However, the letter waiting for him quickly soured his mood 

He didn't even have to open it to recognise the familiar handwriting. He poured himself a drink and sank into the nearest chair, staring blankly down at the letter in his hands.

All Bianca’s letter represented was trouble, and the last thing he needed in the world was any more bloody trouble. Twelve months in a Free Marches prison, for putting an arrow in that bastard she called a husband's ass, was enough for a lifetime. He would have been dead if they thought his actions had anything to do with his relationship with Bianca, if it could really be called a relationship. 

Varric considered ignoring the letter. It would be a request of some kind, it always was. Yet, as always, he was unable to resist the overwhelming urge to find out what she wanted. He tore the envelope open.

He read and reread the letter, and when the words finally sunk in he downed the fiery brew in one long swallow. Tossing the letter into the flames, he watched as the fire licked at the edges, singing it black, before eventually consuming it. 

He didn't know how long he sat there watching the fire, but he flinched when he heard a knock at his door.

"Come in." He called instinctively, and regretted it instantly. He probably wasn't the best company in his current mood.

The door swung open and Hawke stood framed in the entrance, her lips turned up in a cheeky smile. It was her real smile, Varric noted happily. When Hawke really smiled, the corners of her eyes wrinkled a little, and her nose scrunched up in a subtle, but impossibly adorable, way. He truly loved her smile.

Hawke took one look at his sorry state and strode into his room, her lips twisting into an expression of mock-seriousness. Then, with a fake gasp, she exclaimed "Is this a dream? Or have I actually caught you brooding?"

"I have no idea what you mean." he lied, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

Hawke snorted and crossed her arms under her chest.

"It's nothing." He assured her. 

She rolled her eyes. "Look if the strong silent thing stops working for you and you need to talk–"

"I received a letter from Bianca." He reached for the bottle malt whisky by his desk and poured himself another drink. "It's over… she ended it." He downed it in one swallow, trying to chase away the awful tension twisting him up inside as he waited for Hawke to say something.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise when she simply said "And?"

"And nothing. It's over." 

She shook her head, and she walked over to him "You have all this talent." Couching down she took his hand in hers and whispered "You can bend people to your will. Make them do exactly what you want them too. If you set your mind to it you could convince her to take you back. So, why don’t you?" He glanced down at their linked hands. A charged energy crackled between them. Varric’s heart knocked hard against his rib cage. The feel of her hand on his and the warmth of that joining felt… right.

"You think I should con Bianca back?" He asked, strangely fascinated by the lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. His fingers itched to reach out and brush it back, but that would require letting go of her hand. He wasn't ready to do that.

"That’s what we do, isn’t Varric?" Her hushed, smoky tones barely reached his ears, and he leaned closer. "Create a world the way we want it to be. You could convince her you can be the man she wants, the problem is…" Hawke leaned forward and pressed her lips against Varric's cheek "You have to convince yourself first." 

Varric could only stare at his friend, too surprised to speak. Although, surprise was a very inadequate word for the confusing storm of emotions inside him. Hawke’s eyes filled with something Varric couldn’t put his finger on. With a small smile, a pitying one that cut to the quick, she stood walked away leaving the dwarf alone with his thoughts.

Hawke's comment had struck like a well-placed arrow, and a frisson of unease raked his spine. Rubbing the ache growing at his temples, he stood and wandered over to the window. Peeling back the rich gold-brocade curtain, he looked out into those darkened streets he called home. 

What if Hawke was right? What if he didn't actually want to reunite with Bianca? It was just… He had forgotten that was even an option.


	4. Three Card Monte

"Where's Varric?" Anders asked.

“Mm-hmm.” Hawke plucked two shots out of Anders’s hands, downing one and holding the other against Anders’s lips "Busy. C'mon let celebrate."

Anders obediently drank, then handed two of the remaining four shot glasses to Hawke. Hawke finished off the shots in rapid succession, grinning at Anders when he did the same.

And…damn. Anders had definitely ordered something potent. She was gonna feel that fast.

"Not like him to hole up in his room." Anders said absently, side-eyeing her.

Ignoring his unasked question, she pulled a deck of cards from her pockets and started shuffling. "Have I ever shown you the Three Card Monte?" She asked, a wicked little gleam in her eyes.

He searched Hawke’s face, undoubtedly noticing the strain in his friend's smile. "No." He said softly. "Thought it would be more of an Isabela thing" His teeth flashed in a quick smile.

Hawke released the breath she hadn't known she had been holding, relieved the mage gave into her need for a distraction from thoughts about Varric. "Doesn't hurt a girl to know a few short cons." She said with a wink.

She flashed him the queen before laying her flat on the table with two other cards. "Now, the first rule for cheating at cards, always cover the move." She drained another shot before shuffling the three cards on the table with skillful efficiency. "Misdirection. Big movement covers the small. Simple stuff."

Hawke gestured for Anders to pick the Queen out of the cards. After two unsuccessful picks Hawke flipped the last one to reveal the Queen.

"I didn’t know you were so adept at sleight of hand."

"There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me." Hawke said with a saucy smile.

"Such as?" Anders asked with a smirk, his brow cocked.

"Well I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you." She teased.

"That might be worth it." He said with a grin.

"Are we playing cards or flirting?" She asked, signalling for the server to bring another round.

"I thought we could do both," he answered, then gestured for her to run the game again.

She laid the cards face down, then rearranged them quickly in front of him. The server arrived and Hawke handed over some silvers before lining up the drinks on the table.

Anders picked another two cards, and once again came up empty. Hawke flipped the last card to reveal the Queen.

Isabela sauntered over and slung her arm around Anders shoulder "Don't tell me you haven't worked out the con yet." Grinning, she inclined her head toward Hawke. "Watch closely."

Hawke laid the cards down, smirking at Anders intense look of concentration, then with a dramatic flourish quickly shuffled them around. After another two incorrect picks by Anders, Hawke reached out to flip the last card, but Isabela, quick as lightning, snagged her wrist and twisted her hand so it faced up. In her palm was the Queen.

"Andraste's knickerweasels!" Anders cursed. Hawke grinned and shared a smile with Isabela. "That's the trick," Isabela laughed "the lady is never on the table."

Fenris stumbled over and collapsed into the seat next to Hawke, a bottle of wine in his hand. "I seem to recall you saying something a while ago…"

"Shut up!" Anders snapped.

"I can do all your jobs." Fenris said in an exaggerated whiny voice, before raising an eyebrow questioningly "Wasn't that what you said?"

“I don’t sound like that!” Anders said.

Isabela was laughing. “You kinda do.”

“I hate you all.” Anders grumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Hawke and Isabela poorly disguised their laughter behind coughs. “You’re all terrible friends,” Anders mumbled, and his two disloyal friends dissolved into laughter.

“Here,” Fenris said dryly, pouring the mage a glass of his wine. “You need it more than me” Hawke saw a ghost of a smile graced his lips. That slight expression of mirth softened Fenris's features, chasing away the unfortunate cynicism that had marred him for as long as they had all known him.

Anders downed the wine in one swallow, then looked at Fenris. His lips dipped down, giving him an almost boyish look of annoyance. "This little humiliation better make us even now"

Hawke thought she heard Fenris mutter under his breath "Not even close," before taking a sip of his wine. Hawke found herself struggling to suppress her amusement.

Then Isabela started singing some jaunty sea shanty, encouraged by a giggling Anders, and Hawke grinned.

In truth, she missed this. The year Varric was in jail, everyone had scattered throughout Thedas, and while it was still in their best interest not to draw attention to themselves, it just felt too good to have everyone together again for her to really care.

The only thing missing was her best friend.


	5. Uncomfortable questions

Varric stood, a hip perched against the stone railing as he whistled a cheerful tune, looking well rested. While his attention was directed out, she used the moment to study him unobserved. He really was exceptionally handsome.

The moment his gaze landed on her, Varric grinned widely, and her heart sped up. When Varric looked at her like that, she had a hard time remembering things. Things like the fact that she was supposed to be Varric’s friend. Just his friend. Platonic friends. Known-him-for-years friends. Only friends…because Varric didn't see her that way.

It took all Hawke’s concentration to keep her smile steady, as she walked over to him. "Good to see you aren't going to make brooding a habit."

Varric sighed. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Hawke snorted. “Nope.”

Varric laughed, nudging his shoulder into Hawke. “I've been meaning to ask. Have you heard from Junior?”

Hawke shrugged “Just a letter. The Wardens keep him too busy to visit." Then taking a steadying breath, she said "Mother was inconsolable for a few days after.”

Varric’s grin faded, his golden eyes turning intent and hard. "She wasn't giving you shit again?"

Hawke just shrugged again, looking away. “Hawke.” Varric said, having no idea that he was turning Hawke into a complete emotional mess. She both loved and hated how much he cared about her. "Hawke," “ he said, softer this time, a strange expression on his face. “It’s me. Talk to me.”

Sighing, Hawke relented and looked at her friend. A furrow wrinkled Varric’s forehead. “Has she been blaming you again?”

Hawke almost laughed. Varric didn’t know the half of it. "No more than normal. Mothers am I right?"

Varric was supposed to grin and fall back into their usual, easy banter. But Varric didn’t. His expression didn’t change. “You shouldn't have to put up with her bullshit."

Hawke hesitated, torn between her loyalty to her mother and the urge to agree with Varric. “She loves me.”

“Maybe she does.” There was something dark and sharp about Varric’s voice, as if he was saying something that he’d been repressing for a long time. “But it doesn’t change the fact she shouldn't lay the responsibility at your feet. Not for Carver, and not for Bethany. No one could have predicted what happened."

"Thank you." Hawke said, her eyes welling up. Varric pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her waist. They fell into a comfortable silence and she took a moment to inhale his unique, clean scent. When they were like this she could almost pretend that he was really hers; that they were made for each other.

Against her better judgement, Hawke asked: "So, what are you going to do about Bianca?” She was unsure where she found the courage, but it was something she’d needed to ask, while at the same time hadn’t wanted to, not really wanting to hear Varric’s answer. Not when it would more than likely would break her heart.

"Nothing. It's over."

The silence that falls isn’t comfortable this time. Actually, it’s really bloody awkward.

“I only know what Vasca said, but it seemed like there was a story there. It's just not like you to keep it to yourself” Hawke said with a chuckle, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

Varric didn’t say anything for a few moments. “We were in love,” he said, his voice a little hollow and wistful. “Well, I thought we were."

“Did you think she was going to marry you?” Hawke asked, her heart aching in sympathy.

“She agreed to marry me. We’d even planned to run away together” He flashed a wry smile. “Then along came Vasca, with his money, connection and her family's approval. I didn't stand a chance."

An unexpected frisson wound its way through her, sharp and green and biting and feeling very much like— shoving the emotion away she said "So she left you, chose him?"

"It was either that or a Clan war." Then with a sigh he said, "She did the right thing."

At his defense of a woman who’d proven unfaithful to him, when loyalty had always been the most valuable currency to him, that stinging, insidious poison continued to spread.

"I would say you’re better off than being trapped with a wife who”—she ticked off on her fingers—“one, didn’t have the courage to choose you over her family’s wishes, two, lied to you, making you believe she would, and three would happily keep you on the side, at the risk of your life.”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “You don’t know anything of it.”

"I know enough." she snapped back. In that moment she wanted to grab his hands and tell him he was a fool for not realizing they were meant for each other. She wanted to kiss him, have him kiss her back, wanted him to push her against the wall, and cover her lips with his and—

"Please, can we just drop the subject" Varric asked, his expression strained.

Forcing the familiar smile she had to adopt whenever she found her imagination playing tricks on her, giving her a tantalizing look into a future she could not have, Hawke tried to speak calmly. “I'm your best friend,” she said simply. “And I just want you to be happy.”

An expression she couldn’t quite read flashed through Varric’s eyes. She went to walk away from him, but Varric shot out a hand, catching her gently by the forearm. "I am." He said with a small smile."Truly" Tension crackled in the air. And his gaze dipped slowly to her hand. Was it possible to keep being this close to him and not confess her love? _Yes_. The answer was instantaneous because she knew she could never stop being with him. She quickly dropped her arm.

The advantage of being a grifter was she was skilled at faking happiness and ease, even when inside her heart was breaking. Hawke made herself smile at Varric, and said "Then I am as well"


	6. Well, shit!

In the past few weeks, since they’d spoken about Bianca, Hawke had been perfectly polite and friendly, but there was a barely noticeable distance between them that hadn’t been there before—a distance that bothered Varric.

Hawke was never sodding polite, and certainly not with him; she took the piss incessantly, challenged, argued with, teased, criticized, needled, judged, provoked, all the while laughing, snorting, scowling, never presenting the clearly false mask of friendliness and ease she wore whilst he was around currently. So much of the laughter in his daily life was down to Hawke, and having her vibrancy stripped away was like going from living life in glorious technicolor to finding himself in black and white. Nobody actually quite got his humour like her.

Hawke was studying the mark as he flounced about the Hightown market. He oozed arrogance and conceit, from his tailored sapphire frock coat and loud, embroidered waistcoat revealed by his slightly gaping jacket, to the diamond stud neatly positioned at the center of an immaculately tied cravat. The man was as tasteless as he was evil. 

Varric nudged her with his elbow and jokingly said: "He looks a bit like a posturing peacock." Hawke rolled her eyes, but he saw her lip twitch. It was progress. 

"His crimes against fashion alone would be reason enough for me to put an arrow in his ass." He said with a chuckle. Hawke just gave a small smile and shrugged. 

"Oh, for the love of-!" Varric finally snapped, unable to take another minute of whatever the fuck was going on. "Enough! Come on, Hawke. I don’t know what's going on but I don't want us to be at odds with each other. " Varric sighed, reaching out and squeezing her arm. "Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it"

"It's nothing. My mind has just been elsewhere." She said with a small formal smile that made the disquiet in his gut step up a notch.

Before he completely lost it over this strange tension, an idea came to him. She would either laugh or slap him. Honestly, either would be preferable to the bloody passive attitude he was currently getting.

“Hawke answered diplomatically." There was an awkward pause and Hawke looked up to the sky, probably seeking restraint. "You know I hate it when you do that." She muttered darkly, but he thought he saw another lip twitch she was trying to suppress.

Undeterred Varric continued, eyebrow cocked in a challenge "Hawke muttered in an angry aside to the dwarf." 

This time she laughed. The smile that followed brightened the world like a burst of sunshine through the clouds. Varrics’s heart skipped a beat. "Fine." She finally conceded. "I'm not in the best mood. Just be a friend, and let me process it. I'll be back to myself in no time."

Suddenly he felt off-balance. Friend. The word felt strange. Wrong. It was the same sense of unease he had felt the last time she called herself that. He wanted to fall into the role of the best friend, but it fit all wrong, as though he’d outgrown it without even noticing. He almost physically felt something click inside him. He didn't want to be her friend, well at least not only her friend. He wanted to hold her and have her share her feelings and worries with him. He wanted to make her smile and be able to kiss away her frowns– _"Well, shit! I think I'm in love with Hawke."_

When he thought about Bianca, it wasn’t with the same sharp, bittersweet yearning and intensity that it had previously been. In fact it hadn't been like that for some time. He still couldn’t pinpoint when he’d stopped feeling that overwhelming attraction to her, but he honestly couldn’t imagine continuing to be with her. The feelings were gone. There was nothing left except a superficial attraction to a beautiful, intelligent woman. 

And while he had accepted that, he hadn’t known why it didn't hurt as much as he expected. Well, until now. Bianca’s laughter no longer warmed his chest, and the curve of her lips didn’t make his heart beat faster. Hawke's did, and he honestly couldn't recall a time when she hadn't had that effect on him.

It made the strangeness of these past twelve months make so much more sense. Varric had never felt so at loose ends: the need to see Hawke, to bask in the warmth of her smile was always at the back of his mind. Now that Varric thought about it, he couldn’t believe how he had missed it.

Varric wasn’t sure when exactly it had started—when he had fallen in love with his best friend, but he knew for certain that he was. There had always been only one person for him, the one person he truly wanted to spend his life with. He’d just been too blind to see what he'd felt all along.

Hawke had crawled her way into his heart, and his soul, and imprinted herself on him. He hadn't even realised until he had to spend twelve months without her, and then suddenly had all the light and laughter disappear from his life just by the creation of some kind of invisible wall between them.

He had no idea how long he'd been silent, his mind trying to process his racing thoughts, but he almost jumped out of his skin when Hawke suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and said: "Varric," before pointing towards the stairway to the Viscount's Keep. "Danzig is talking to the Magistrate."

Varric looked over and watched the Slaver hand over what he suspected was a bribe. The Magistrate accepted the purse with a smile.

"Oh, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit." Hawke said with a grimace. "I'm a professional criminal and I wouldn't be caught dead working with a slaver."

Varric nodded and filled his feelings away to deal with later. Right now they had a job to do. "Let's go see what the others have found out."


	7. Tattoo it on my ass

Later that week Varric paced his suite at the Hanged Man carefully considering his options. On one hand, he had never been the type to give up on something he wanted without a fight. If there was even a slim chance that Hawke actually wanted him then Varric would be damned if he didn’t fight for that chance. On the other hand, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship just because he was too greedy for more, and there was nothing more important to him than his relationship with Hawke. 

_But what if there was a chance?_

No. He had to tell her. Because, honestly, what was the alternative? Spend the rest of his life hiding his feelings? Watch as she falls in love with someone else and stand beside her as the best man at her wedding, never knowing if she could have loved him back? It would be a life made of regret, and he already had enough of those. 

Hawke wouldn’t just toss their friendship away because he had suddenly developed feelings she didn't return. They would work through it if it came to that. 

He poured himself a whiskey and swallowed it in one mouthful. With the alcohol buzzing in his system and a look of determination he strode from the Hanged Man and headed straight to the Hawke Estate.

It was a short walk, but not short enough for doubts not to slip in. He stood for several minutes, unable to bring himself to open her door. He had a key. Hawke had given him one years ago, said she wanted her home to feel like his. Yet, Varric was terrified. A small part of him whispered that she wouldn't love him back, couldn't love him back. That he was just setting himself up for a world of hurt. 

He took a deep breath. It didn't matter. He had to at least tell her, and maybe she would feel the same but if she didn't he could accept that. What he couldn't accept was never knowing if there was a chance for something more. He opened the door.

"The tall one? The way he carries a shield? Ex-Templar." Varric heard Fenris explain. "You ID'd a guy off the way he holds a shield?" Anders said, with no small amount of sarcasm. "It's a very distinctive style." Fenris snapped. "Boys, all this sexual tension is starting to get a little ridiculous. Just kiss and make up already. Maybe even let me watch"

"Shit!" Varric muttered under his breath. The whole gang was here. He hadn't planned on that. Doesn't matter. He had to speak with Hawke before he lost the courage. Varric squared his shoulders and walked into the main room.

“Hawke can we talk?” The room suddenly went silent, and everyone's gaze zeroed in on him. "Alone." Hawke's brows furrowed in confusion, but she nodded in agreement. 

Anders, Fenris and Isabela began to whisper to each other. If Varric's heart wasn't about to burst from his chest he would have found his other friends' poor attempts to be subtle about their curiosity amusing. Instead he needed all his willpower to keep his hands from trembling.

Hawke stood and led him into her study and as she closed the door he heard Anders's voice raise in a mock whisper, "Ooh, looks like Mom and Dad are fighting.” It was followed by the resounding sound of a smack, as someone hit him. Varric found himself chuckling and he felt some of his anxiety ease. He could always count on his friends to ease the tension.

Hawke sat down in her armchair and propped her feet up on the table “So what's up Varric? And what's with all the secrecy?” Varric’s heart began to pound, in equal parts fear and anticipation. 

"I don't want you to be my friend." Hawke frowned. "Shit! That's not what I meant." Varric ran his fingers through his hair. "Not exactly." Closing his eyes he sighed: "This is coming out all wrong." When he opened them again he saw Hawke was wearing an expression of hurt confusion. Varric's gut twisted with shame. He would sooner cut off his own hand than cause her pain.

Varric walked around the table and positioned himself next to Hawke. "You're my best friend Hawke, but also you’re not just that. You're more." Varric explained, his voice roughened with emotion "When I'm near you my heart races. When your eyes meet mine I never want to look away. Everytime you smile my good sense goes out the window, but in the best way possible. In fact, you're my reason to smile most days. You're my home.” Varric stood firm and took a deep breath "I'm in love with you" 

She said nothing for a moment; she was so still, that all he could hear was her even breathing. He was about one second away from panicking and apologising profusely, when he saw her do something truly bizarre and all other thoughts disappeared. “Did you just pinch yourself, Hawke?” 

“No,” She snapped and Varric couldn't suppress his smile. Not the reaction he was expecting but it was so perfectly her. She was absolutely ridiculous and so bloody adorable it hurt.

Varric exhaled in relief. She wasn't running from the room in horror, she was just shocked. “I know this is a shock but if there is any chance you could feel the same way or–” 

“Maker's breath Varric,” Hawke interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose with a disbelieving laugh. “You have no idea, do you?” Varric’s brows furrowed. "You make me breathless whenever you touch my arm, or brush my shoulder. You make me breathless just by looking at me.” Hawke sighed. “How do you not know that I am desperately in love with you?” 

“Maybe because you’ve never said it?” he ventured hesitantly, caught between hope and disbelief. 

“You are the only person who has seen beyond the image of grifter and scapegrace. You are the only person to see more than the image I allowed people to believe.” The raw honesty in her voice almost made Varric’s heart leap out of his chest. "I love you Varric. I've always loved you."

"You love me." Varric realised he was grinning like an idiot, but couldn't stifle his expression of joy. Hawke’s answering smile was as bright as sunshine. "Yes, you idiot!"

He reached out and placed his palm against her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “You are a remarkable woman, Hawke.” he said softly, then tucked her hair behind her ears, leaned down and touched his lips to hers. This kiss wasn’t hungry. It was slow, exploratory and sensual. It felt good in a way that made his stomach ache with affection and love.

Hawke smiled candidly up at him, crinkles forming around her eyes, such an unstudied expression of delight that Varric hardly could keep from laughing with happiness. Then suddenly she frowned. “Wait,” she said, "what about your feelings for Bianca?" 

Varric didn’t hurry with his answer. He knew this was important to Hawke, and it was a fair question after all that had happened between them. “I was in love with her,” he said at last. “I thought she would be it for me.” Hawke’s gaze dropped. Varric tapped her on the cheek and Hawke looked up again. “But I was wrong. I haven't felt that way about her for a long time, I just didn't realise it until recently. Actually I haven't felt that way about her since you came barreling into my life. I love you Hawke."

Hawke's eyes were suspiciously shiny, and that sunrise smile was back again, impossibly bright. Suddenly, she gripped his shirt and pulled him down into a hug, burying her face against his throat. 

“I love you, Hawke, and you’re gonna hear it every day. You’re gonna get sick of hearing it. In fact, I might just tattoo it on my ass, so when I’m sleeping, you can read aloud if you get impatient to hear it again before I wake up.” Varric laughed softly and he felt Hawke vibrating against as she dissolved into silent giggles.

Hawke’s lips trembled against his shoulder before laughter erupted from her chest, unburdened and happy. Grinning, Varric wrapped her in his arms and held onto her—his best friend, his lover, his other half, his happiness. Labels didn’t matter if they all meant the same thing: Hawke.

There was a moment of silence, and then Hawke said, “The gang is going to tease us mercilessly when we walk out there."

Varric chuckled. "It's worth it."


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a cute post fic scene I just had to write.

“Aww, aren’t you two the cutest?” Isabela said, flopping on the couch and smirking down at Hawke and Varric really obnoxiously. “I always knew you’d be adorable together.” 

“I called it ages ago,” Anders chimed in, without looking up from his cards. 

"No you didn't" Fenris countered immediately.

“Sometimes I hate you guys,” Hawke said from where she was sprawled out on the carpet, using Varric’s lap as a pillow. Looking away from the cards in his hand, Varric smiled down at her. “Liar.”

Hawke found herself smiling back. Okay, maybe she was lying, a bit. She loved their little family.

Hawke grabbed the front of Varric’s shirt and pulled him down. “C’mere. It’s been two whole hours since you kissed me.” Varric was laughing as their lips smashed together. The angle was awkward, there were wolf whistles and laughter all around the room, but it was still the best kiss of Hawke’s life. It tasted of happiness.


End file.
